


How It Ends

by trash4ficsaboutlurv



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Light Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 06:48:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8787841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trash4ficsaboutlurv/pseuds/trash4ficsaboutlurv
Summary: Steve is trynna hit it.





	

Sam put the movie in and sat in his usual spot on Steve's sofa. Steve, for his part, positioned himself somewhat closer than usual. It was calculated, but he tried to make the move seem casual, completely normal. _Oops, hey, look how close I'm sitting. It'd be silly to move, right?_ He hoped his cheeks weren't flushed or anything. Sam glanced at him and smiled.  

"For once, it's a movie I haven't seen either," he said, nodding at the screen. 

Steve swallowed. "But you've heard good things?"  

Sam nodded. "Nothing but good." 

The opening credits rolled. Steve barely registered the name of the film. He was calculating for the dozenth time in the last fifteen minutes what the leap between holding hands a week ago -- neither had acknowledged it afterward, but they had definitely held hands during their last movie night -- what was the distance between perfectly chaste hand-holding and what Steve wanted to do next? Was it better to ask Sam flat out? Or to move by slow degrees and to stop if Sam showed the slightest hesitation? Steve's heart thrashed against his rib cage as he pondered the intricacies of his situation. 

He'd be better at this, he knew, if he'd had a normal life. If he had gone through all the awkward fumbling in high school and come out of the other side smooth, suave, a total expert in the art of seduction.  

"Do I have something on my face?" Sam asked.  

"Whuh?" 

"You're staring a hole in the side of my head." 

Steve laughed. "Nah, you're good. Thought I saw a gray hair." 

"Har har har," Sam said. "Your old jokes are so funny." He pushed Steve's shoulder playfully. "Pay attention. This is a smart people movie. And I hear the plot twist is insane." 

Steve sighed. He tried very hard to focus on the TV, but the next hour was pure hell. He couldn't remotely follow the plot; if someone told him he had to name a single character or be killed, his life would have been in serious danger. He was just too damn aware of Sam.  

"Can we pause it?" Sam asked.  

"Yeah, sure," Steve said, pouncing on the remote. "What's up?"  

"Are you kidding me?" Sam laughed. "How are you dry-eyed right now? You cry way easier than me." 

Steve patted Sam's shoulder. "There, there, you old softie." His hand dropped to Sam's elbow, then to the sofa.  

"I knew they were going to kill the best friend," Sam said, "but they milked that tragedy for all it was worth. And you know how I get. If I see someone cry, I'm contractually obligated to also cry." 

Steve nodded. He patted Sam's thigh, not thinking about it until he'd done it. Until he felt the hard, dense muscle. "There, there," he said again.  

Sam looked down at Steve's hand. A longer than average second passed. A second that swelled and lengthened, that defied the laws of space and time. Steve pulled his hand away, but Sam caught his wrist and looked at him. Steve actually watched Sam's pupils dilate. It took his breath away. Sam was interested.  

Steve tilted his head toward the paused movie on the screen. "Should we keep going?" he asked, praying Sam would say no. 

But Sam nodded. "I wanna see how it ends," he said. Had his voice always been so husky and deep, so sultry? 

Steve kept his hand on Sam's thigh and pressed play on the remote.  

The movie resumed, but if Steve's brain had been a sieve for the details before, now it was a giant, amusement park slide. In and out went every detail with no hang time in the middle. 

Sam was wearing sweatpants, soft to the touch like fleece. Steve slid his palm along the fuzzy material and Sam sighed. Steve did it again, peeked over at Sam. Sam bit his lip, but still very studiously stared at the screen. 

Steve smoothed his thumb along Sam's inner thigh and the very faintest of tremors went through Sam's leg.  

Steve swirled his fingertips across the fabric. He had never felt anything so soft. And underneath it, the hot, firm, unyielding muscle. How many years of running, how many squats and lunges, had created this perfect body?  

Steve's hand wandered almost to Sam's knee and then returned in slow, very slow, too slow if Sam's breathing was anything to go by, circles back up. Sam let out a shaky breath. Steve's hand descended once again to his knee. And then the slow ascent, almost but not quite to the top of Sam's thigh. The imprint of Sam's hardening erection pressed against the fabric, a thick, curved bulge. Steve's own breathing was starting to quicken. He scooted closer to Sam to pay attention to his other leg, to compare the fabric softness.  

Sam stretched his arms out and let them rest on the back of the sofa. It made his shirt pull across his chest.  

His eyes fluttered shut when Steve's palm grazed over his nipple. 

"Open your eyes," Steve murmured. "You're gonna miss the movie." 

Sam swallowed and his Adam's apple bobbed. Steve wanted to kiss it. He wanted to kiss all of Sam. 

Sam's chest was hard and sculpted under his t-shirt and Steve caressed the curves and angles of him like a sculptor admiring his own work. He lingered at Sam's sides, which were apparently sensitive, but not ticklish. Steve could feel the vault of Sam's rib cage underneath the muscle.  

Sam's breath caught in his throat when Steve's finger dipped into his navel. His hips pushed up and he stiffened. 

Steve kissed his shoulder, retreated. He smoothed his hand along Sam's collarbone, from shoulder to shoulder, under the curve of his pecs, down the hard boniness of his sternum, exploring higher up until Sam relaxed. 

"Can I?" he asked, slowly tracking back down Sam's chest. 

Sam shuddered, nodded. 

"How's the movie?"  

"It's good," he said shakily. "Steve." 

Steve kissed Sam's shoulder again as he slid his hand into his pants.  

Sam made a noise in the back of his throat and trembled. 

"Still good?" Steve asked. 

Sam nodded.  

Steve wrapped his hand around Sam's dick and very slowly dragged his palm up to the head. 

Sam made that same noise again. It sounded pained, but when Steve paused, Sam pushed up into his grip and whispered, "Steve."  

"You want me to keep going?" 

Sam nodded. His lips were parted and his eyes were glazed. Steve could see the very faintest color on high cheeks. Hot prickles of desire danced on his skin just seeing Sam like this. He thumbed the head of Sam's dick. 

 

"Please," Sam whispered and the last vestiges of Steve's self control snapped.

He slid to the floor and to his knees. "I want—Sam, can I...?"  

"Steve," Sam begged. 

Steve looked up at him, his beautiful, beautiful Sam. "I think I'm going to miss the rest of the movie," he said, smiling. He tugged on Sam's pants and Sam lifted his hips to help. Steve kissed Sam's inner thigh. "You have to tell me how it ends."


End file.
